Burning Ruins: A Castlevania Fanfiction
by TateDeco
Summary: Trevor lost everything that night. His home. His family. And his compassion for the people of Wallachia. Based on the Castlevania Netflix Series.


****Burning Ruins: A Castlevania Fanfiction****

After all these years Trevor's memory of his family had faded away. Their faces had become hazy and veiled in shadows. He tried to hold on to the sound of their voices but it was too painful to think of their names - so Trevor avoided it.

His suffering had started in a summer night. 12-year-old Trevor was laying in bed and looking at the ceiling. It was never quiet in the Belmont house. From downstairs the sound of his siblings fighting each other reached his ears. Wood on wood. Their parents did not allow metal swords without supervision.

Trevor folded his arms and thought about the unfairness of it all. He was old enough to fight with them. But his parents were very protective of their youngest. Far too protective. And his older siblings were even worse. If someone just looked wrongly at him, they would draw their swords – real ones at that. Trevor loved his family. But sometimes it was too much.

He sighed and turned to the window. It was half opened. His curtains floated in the warm summer wind. It was peaceful – boring.

Trevor jumped out of the bed and put on his shoes. The wooden boards creaked under his weight and Trevor used every trick his hunting family had taught him to reach the top of the staircase. He ducked, when his parents appeared at the bottom. They were arguing in hushed tones. They had done that a lot lately.

Something about the Church. Trevor waited impatiently for them to move. He was restless. The Church had never interested him. Mass had been boring and Trevor had sneakily read his family's bestiary most of the time – earning him disapproving glances from his very religious family and all the other townsfolks.

Come to think of it – they had not gone to mass in a long time. Or anywhere else. His parents spent most of their time at home only occasionally going out to hunt. There were no desperate people showing up at their doorstep anymore. Weird.

But Trevor could not care less. His parents left the hallway and he sneaked down the stairs following the sound of his siblings.

Trevor opened the door just in time for the crack of a whip to echo through the room. His siblings apparently got an upgrade from their wooden swords. Maybe they could use the cooler stuff now that his sister was 16.

She stroke out at his brother with a metal sword. But Trevor's mouth fell wide open at the sight of his weapon.

"Is that Vampire Killer?", Trevor ran up to his brother - ignoring every safety rule his parents had established.

The whip narrowly missed his head while his brother defended himself from his sister's attack.

"Are you insane?", he glared at Trevor, "I could have decapitated you, little idiot."

Trevor lunged for the whip: "I'm not little."

His brother held it out of his reach: "Father explicitly told me to not let you touch it."

"Please?", Trevor jumped trying to reach the weapon of his dreams, "I won't try anything."

His brother's face softened. Trevor knew how to convince him.

His brother sighed: "Maybe for just-"

"No", his sister crossed her arms, "I won't be responsible if little Trevi cuts off his finger."

"You guys are mean."

His sister kneeled so that she was on his level: "We don't want you to get hurt. You have to understand this, Trevor."

He bit his lip: "You guys are always hanging out together, training together. And father and mother won't let me join you."

"They want to make sure that you are safe. And they can only do that if they personally train you", she was trying to be reasonable – as always.

His brother ruffled Trevor's hair: "You are our little bro, Trevi. We'll always protect you. And you have to endure our jabs in return."

Trevor halted – then he threw himself at his brother. They ended up rolling on the floor until Trevor pinned him.

"I yield", his brother laughed, "You got me, Trev."

"You aren't even trying."

"And you are an obnoxious little shit."

Trevor grinned widely at that.

His brother picked him up – much to Trevor's protest. He was a giant and unbelievably strong. Trevor wanted to be like him.

"And you gotta go to bed now."

His brother carried him into the hallway – the legendary whip left in the training room. His sister followed: "I can tell you a bedtime story, if you want, Trev."

"I'm not a little kid."

"So you don't want to hear about the great Leon Belmont?", she grinned – knowing exactly how her little brother would react.

Trevor looked up: "I didn't say that."

On their way upstairs, Trevor asked: "Do you think I'll get Vampire Killer one day?"

He bit his lip waiting for reassurance. The constant babying from his family made him doubt himself - especially as he had no one his age to compare to. What if he failed as a Belmont?

"You'll get her when I'm upgrading to Morning Star", his brother chuckled, "Don't worry, Trev. You're doing good."

"You think you'll get Morning Star?", his sister followed them, "Cute."

Their bickering was interrupted by a loud thud on the front door.

His siblings halted on the staircase - exchanging a look of distress. The grip around Trevor tightened. They hurried into his bedroom.

"Put on your clothes", his brother ordered.

Trevor frowned: "But I thought-"

"NOW, Trev."

The thudding became louder."

We know that you are there, Belmont. No need to hide", a grisly voice from outside.

Footsteps drew closer. They seemed to be from a mob of people. Insults penetrated the walls of the Belmont estate - making Trevor shiver. They were aimed at him and his family and he didn't even understand why.

Trevor threw on some clothes. Family crest on the back and front. The Belmonts were nothing if not proud of their heritage.

His door flew open and his mother sighed in relief when she saw all her children in one place. She was a burly woman – tough and unshakable. Hardened by decades of seeing the worst the supernatural world had to offer. But right now her face was reddened and her gaze wandered down to the hallway observing how her husband drew closer to the front door.

"You need to run. Now", she was slightly out of breath – also unusual for her.

His brother clenched his fist: "I won't hide from the Church. These bloodsuckers have to come and kill me themselves."

"We will stay and fight", his sister stepped forward.

"And what about your brother?", his mother nodded in Trevor's direction.

His siblings bowed their heads in shame. But they stood their ground.

"Trevor is small and he knows the forest like no other. If someone can get away, he will", his brother said.

He left the room and his heavy steps hit the wood of the stairs on the way down. Trevor wondered where he was going.

"I don't want to run away", Trevor wasn't a coward.

He wouldn't leave his family. They exchanged glances but after another thud and a growing array of screams his mother's gaze hardened: "No discussion. You run. You hide. And you find your uncle in the house. You know where. They have to be warned. The baby needs to be safe. It's an important task, Trevor. And you'll flee with them until we catch

up."

He knew that they did it to get him out of the way. Still Trevor nodded. His aunt and uncle had a newborn baby at home after all. Trevor had visited them a few weeks ago in a small hut after the birth. In retrospect, it seemed more like a hideout. Everyone – except him – had known for a long time that they were in trouble.

His brother returned - carrying Vampire Killer and holding the whip out to Trevor: "Keep her safe."

Now Trevor didn't feel joy when holding her and more akin to nausea.

His sister hugged Trevor intensely. She exchanged a glance with her mother and stormed out of the room.

"What is she doing?", Trevor asked.

"Securing the hold."

His brother pushed Trevor to the window. Trevor climbed over the edge and carefully jumped down. With his Belmont grace he landed on the ground.

His brother looked out the window with glistening eyes: "I love you, Trev."

"I love you, too", was the only thing which came out of his dry throat.

Why did it feel so final?

Trevor made sure the whip was secured by his side and hurried to the tree line. He hesitated before vanishing in the forest. A mob of angry villagers had gathered in front of the Belmont estate. Torches and pitchforks in hand. The masses stormed through the front gate – trampling on the roses the servants had spent so much time on cultivating. They were led by men in flowing robes. One of them held a large cross in his hand. He hammered against the door. Why was the Church doing this to them? His family helped people – they didn't hurt them.

His father finally opened the door. The rest of his family behind him in a fighting stance. Trevor should be with them. Instead he was frozen on the spot hiding between some dumb trees.

"No need to get violent. We can solve this like civilized people", his father said.

The priest hit him in the face with the end of the cross: "There's nothing civilized about you Belmonts."

Blood ran down from his father's nose. Trevor clenched his fists.

"Fucking black magicians", one of the townsfolks spit on the gravel.

"By highest order you are excommunicated", the priest with the cross said.

Excommunicated? Trevor knew what that meant. He had heard about women being staked for witchcraft or Speakers being hunted and killed. It made his stomach clench.

He bit his lip. Now was not the time to hesitate. He had to have faith in his family. They were Belmonts after all. Everything would be fine.

And Trevor had his own mission. He touched Vampire Killer for reassurance and ran through the forest. Following the carefully memorized routes he had used to sneak away when his family's protectiveness became overbearing.

His uncle's hideout was situated at the edge of the town. Trevor made sure to evade houses. Conscious about the Belmont crest on his chest and back.

He was out of breath when he reached the hut. Hiding behind another stupid tree, he observed the scene. Somehow the Church had found them. Townspeople pulled his screaming uncle out of the house. He seemed weakened, hanging in their grip. Blood covered his face and Trevor vomited when he saw that his uncle's eye was missing - the taste of bile filling his mouth.

"You fucking bastards", his uncle screamed, "You killed a woman and an innocent baby. And you call yourself men of God?"

Trevor bit his lip. His aunt was dead. And the baby. He had failed. He had failed his legacy. What kind of Belmont was he? He should be lying dead in this hut. Not them. It was his fault. If he hadn't hesitated. If he had run faster. He would have saved them. The Belmont crest seemed to burn through his chest. Trevor wasn't worthy of it. His brother should have kept Vampire Killer. She would have been safer with him.

The townspeople threw his uncle in the dirt. A mob gathered around him. Under the watch of the Church the good people of Wallachia kicked his uncle and stabbed him with pitchforks. When his screams stopped and they dispersed only a bloody corpse remained.

Trevor felt helpless. He had watched his uncle die without being able to do anything. What kind of Belmont was he? A pathetic one apparently. And he was probably the only one left. No. That couldn't be. He refused to believe that.

Trevor turned around. It was too late. He would return to the estate, tell his family that he had failed and face their disappointment.

Trevor bumped into a man with a crimson rope.

"Where do you think you are going, little witch?", he asked.

Trevor stumbled back – the whip in his hand.

"Don't come closer", he stammered.

"I've found another witch. GET HIM", the priest screamed.

And Trevor ran into the forest – townspeople on his trail. Some got closer to him than he liked. But he lunged at them with the whip. He didn't wait to see what came of them. The screams were enough.

His brother had been smart when giving him the whip. It was the first weapon a Belmont learned to wield as it kept a distance between them and their stronger – normally supernatural – opponents. Trevor wouldn't stand a chance against these men with a sword. But his brother had given him an opportunity to escape which made Trevor's eyes water. His brother had saved him and what had Trevor done in return?

He ran through the forest avoiding low hanging branches and listening for the curses of his hunters. He stopped when he reached a wall of fire. Trevor coughed – the smoke swarming his lungs. They were trying to chase him out of the forest. Circling him with fire.

He changed his direction only to meet flames again. Trevor had no chance. He ran towards the edge of the forest. Knowing that they would wait for him. And they would get him. Even with Vampire Killer. They'd exhaust him and then tear the whip from him. He'd break another promise – his last promise – to his brother. No. He wouldn't let them do that.

Trevor reached a creek. He knelt down and wrapped the whip around a stone. Carefully laying it back into the water and hiding it under another pile of rocks. It would be safe from the fire. And Trevor would get it back – if he survived this night. At least he would tell his brother – if he saw him again.

He crammed his hand around a dagger he had hidden in his boot and ran out of the forest. Fire and smoke on his heels. Trevor was greeted by the smirking villagers pointing their pitchforks at him. He fell back.

"That's how you catch a Belmont", a man missing a front tooth laughed, "Circling him like a pig."

Trevor raised his dagger.

"Where is your fancy whip? Did Satan want his toy back?"

"It was a consecrated whip. And you made it burn. I'm not the one going to hell", Trevor gritted his teeth, "And I don't need it to kick your asses."

Liar. But he had to feign confidence. Belmonts didn't fear death.

The villager laughed and raised his pitchfork: "You got a big mouth, little witch."

A priest came closer. Looking all otherworldly and wise. He was a liar, too.

"Stop bickering and get him. Make sure that Satan doesn't spread his seed in our beloved Wallachia."

The villagers circled him. Trevor stabbed at them with his dagger. He managed to get a few of them. One even fell to the floor. Bleeding out by a slash in his thigh. Trevor's first human kill. He would have felt sick if the hate for these people didn't overwhelm him.

But the guy with the pitchfork managed to keep Trevor at a distance. He played with him like a cat would with its food. Intentionally missing his face. Trevor had to take a risk and try to reach the man.

He pretended to strike out at a woman with a knife only to change his direction and to lunge at pitchfork-guy. But he expected Trevor's attack. His weapon ripped into the left side of Trevor's face – making the young Belmont scream in pain.

It was over quickly. The villagers mobbed around him and kicked him like they had his uncle. Blood covered his sight and pain ran through his body like lightning. Trevor rolled in on himself trying to protect his head. Pathetic.

A whistle from the priest made them stop.

"Take the witch and bring him to the Belmont estate. If his family needs any leverage to stop resisting, he'll do the job."

Two villagers gripped him under his arms and pulled him through the forest. He started to recognize the trees. They were close to his family's home. And it smelled like smoke.

Trevor gasped when he saw the burning ruins of his home. No sight of his sister or his parents. But his brother was fighting a couple of villagers with a sword in a corner of the garden. He looked to the house. The glister in his eyes had transformed into tears. But he still kept on fighting. Decapitating one of the assholes.

They threw Trevor down. He fell face forward into the dirt. Too weak to hold himself up.

His brother hesitated: "What are you doing here, Trev?"

"I'm sorry", he looked at his brother.

Sniffling and crying. His world had broken apart in the last few hours.

"It's okay", his brother looked at him while fighting three villagers at once.

Trevor felt pathetic in comparison to his big strong brother.

"Where are they?", he looked to the house.

"They are in heaven. They are safe now. Don't worry about it, Trev."

"Don't kid yourself, Belmont. Your family of witches will eternally rot in hell by Satan's side", a villager cried, "You brought misfortune upon Wallachia."

This earned him a slash to the throat. But Trevor's brother panted.

"I was too late", Trevor tried to get up, "They were already dead. I failed."

"No, you didn't. The Church failed you. And Wallachia", his brother made another kill.

"This blasphemy is enough", the priest held a knife to Trevor's throat, "You want this little spawn to join his family in hell? If not, then put down your weapon and kneel."

His brother looked at Trevor.

"Don't", Trevor cried, "Just run away. I don't deserve you dying for me. I failed."

Without hesitation his brother threw the sword away and knelt. They shared a look of sadness and regret.

Trevor lowered his gaze: "I managed to hide her. Like you wanted from me."

"You did good, Trev", his brother smiled through his tears, "I should have protected you."

He glanced to the burning ruins: "All of you."

They both cried and his brother reached out to Trevor. His warm grip gave him a sliver of security.

It happened too quickly for Trevor to understand. The priest had loosened the knife at his neck. A mistake.

His brother lunged at Trevor – covering him with his body. At the same time he threw the hidden knifes from his boots at the surrounding people. The priest and his lackeys went down.

Trevor froze. Were they safe?

A gurgling sound ripped him out of his sense of hope. His brother spluttered up blood covering Trevor's face. He used his last strength to lift himself up so that Trevor could crawl out from under him.

Pitchfork-guy laid dead on the floor. Knife in his throat. But his weapon was embedded in his brother's back.

Trevor fell down clasping his arms around his brother: "No. This can't be happening."

The remaining villagers paid no attention to Trevor – trying to save the dying priest. Trevor knew it was too late for the Asshole of God. Good. He deserved this grisly dead. He hadn't felt remorse when he had burned Trevor's family.

"Run", blood crowded his brother's mouth.

"No."

"Please, Trev. Do it for me. For the Belmont legacy", he managed a bloody grin, "We don't go down that easily."

With a quivering hand he wiped Trevor's tears away: "Live for me."

He couldn't deny his brother's last wish. Not when he had sacrificed everything so that Trevor could survive.

So Trevor nodded: "I promise."

"See you in heaven", the light faded from his brother's eyes.

It was their last 'fuck you' to the Church. And Trevor savored this final moment with his brother. He closed his eyes in a last act of respect, took the dagger from pitchfork-guy's throat and ran.

Away from his home. His family. Everything he knew.

Wallachia would pay for what they had done to his family. The last Belmont wouldn't lift a finger when Dracula decided he wanted a snack again.

He would gleefully watch.

* * *

**AN: This is it. The first Fanfiction I've ever published - because this fandom is way too small and I couldn't stand it anymore. I hope you liked it and I would love to see some comments. Feedback is always appreciated. :)**


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